


in the line of duty

by Laylah



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Developing trust, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, field medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: "Not hungry," Feower says. He crosses his good arm over his injured one, and realizes he gave himself away when he sees Seofon's expression sharpen. The guy spends so much time acting like an idiot, it's easy to forget he's not one.Seofon takes a step closer and Feower's skin prickles all over. "Come here. Let me see it in the light."
Relationships: Feower/Seofon (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	in the line of duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowsapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/gifts).



Leaves crunch underfoot and brush rustles as they dart through the woods, Feower close on Seofon's heels and the mafia's goons crashing along behind them. Skilled as they are, fighting an entire stronghold without their preferred weapons on hand is a little much.

Seofon vaults over what looks like a completely ordinary patch of ground, so Feower follows suit. Pain jars up his injured arm as he lands but this is no time to stop moving. Behind them, as he flees into the denser wood at the heart of the island, there's a loud crash and men swearing: their pursuers falling into the pit they camouflaged. It won't stop a determined pursuit, but it'll buy them some time, and that's all they need.

They head further upward and inward, toward the center of the island. There are monsters here, in the unsettled areas, but they manage to skirt around all the most dangerous nests. Feower misses his Eternal armor and his good daggers badly, but it's not much of an infiltration mission if you have your uniform on.

He's still in pain when they reach the tiny hidden cabin where they'll be waiting for backup. It had been a dumb reflexive move, throwing an arm up to block that draph thug's club. Probably Seofon would have gotten out of the way in time without his intervention.

The whole mission—going in incognito, pretending to join up, so they could figure out how strong the mafia presence was here—would have been too much, except that taking these creeps down will take a lot of pressure off Stardust Town, and that's worth any amount of hassle. Feower stands there and tries to focus on the kids being safe instead of how hot his arm feels or the way the pain pulses in time with his heartbeat.

"—completely spacing out on me?" Seofon is saying. From the way he's frowning he's probably been trying to get Feower's attention for a while.

"What?" Feower says, his hackles rising automatically. "We made it here. We don't have anything to do until the others arrive, do we?"

"I thought you might want a snack," Seofon says too brightly, holding up a neatly wrapped box that was probably Tweyen's handiwork originally.

"Not hungry," Feower says. He crosses his good arm over his injured one, and realizes he gave himself away when he sees Seofon's expression sharpen. The guy spends so much time acting like an idiot, it's easy to forget he's not one.

Seofon takes a step closer and Feower's skin prickles all over. "Come here. Let me see it in the light."

"I'm fine," Feower says, and doesn't even believe it himself. "Fif can take care of it tomorrow." That's closer to the truth. It's going to be a bad night but it's nothing he can't handle.

"Come here, please," Seofon says. Quietly, with no whining, so he means it.

"It's not that bad," Feower insists, but he steps closer to the one little window.

Seofon takes his wrist in one hand and gently pushes up the sleeve of Feower's borrowed shirt. There's an obvious swelling about halfway up his forearm, right where the pain is centered. Feower bites his tongue. Seofon turns his arm, and the underside is mottled dark, a purple that shades almost to black.

"I'm no healer," Seofon says, "but that looks broken to me."

"I know," Feower snaps, pulling away from Seofon's touch before the gentle warmth of those fingers can bother him. More than it already does. He shouldn't be this upset when he's seen plenty of broken bones before; it's just more unsettling when it's his own. He takes a deep breath. Another one. They're on the same side. "I'll be okay until the others get here."

"We'll want to be careful not to make it worse before then," Seofon says, like he's discussing strategy, not like he's trying to fuss over it. Feower's grateful he at least knows better than to make a big deal of it.

Only then he takes off the cheap sword he's been wearing, sets the sword itself aside, and snaps the sheath in half, twice: once to break off the end of it, and then splitting the remainder lengthwise so the studs holding the leather pop free and rocket off into the corners of the room. Feower feels too hot for some reason.

"Hold these, would you?" Seofon says brightly. He looks so pleased with himself. Feower snatches the broken pieces with his good hand.

And Seofon starts to unlace the plain linen shirt he's been wearing.

"What are you doing?" Feower demands.

Seofon pulls the shirt off over his head and the motion stirs the air just enough to carry his scent, and he smells _good_ , which might be the most uncalled-for thing he's ever done. "Improvising," he says, and it takes a second for Feower to remember he asked a question. Seofon tears the white linen into strips and then nods at the ex-scabbard sticks in Feower's hand. "Let's get you splinted up, hmm?"

"I said I'd be okay," Feower protests. He's being stubborn and he knows it. Tien would kick his ass if she were here. It's just that Seofon is so—

"Don't want to let big brother take care of you?"

So like that. " _No_ ," Feower says. "You can help only if you're not weird about it."

The teasing look drops off Seofon's face fast enough that Feower doesn't want to think about the reasons. "Deal," he says. "Here, sit down with me."

Feower sits, leaning forward so he can stretch his arm out and let Seofon start splinting it. The pain is a steady beat that he can almost hear in the back of his head. Seofon's hands are surprisingly nimble when they're not encased in those gauntlets of his.

"Surprised anyone got this good a hit on you," Seofon says as he ties the first of the linen strips. "You're usually so good at getting past people."

"You didn't even see that guy—" Feower cuts himself off, shaking his head. "You're lucky you have people to watch your back."

Seofon smiles at him gently. "I am."

Feower looks down to avoid looking at his face, and that just means looking at his hands, and the flex of muscles in his forearms as he ties knots, and... He'd be so attractive if he weren't so annoying. Wait, no, that's the kind of thing you think when you've hit your head, not your arm. Feower chews his lip and holds very still, waiting for his splint to be done.

"There," Seofon says after a minute, one warm hand covering Feower's. "Not a professional job, I admit, but it should hold until tomorrow."

"Thanks," Feower gets out. He can appreciate when someone's trying to help. He's not going to be a jerk about it.

Seofon breaks into a big cheesy grin as soon as Feower looks him in the face. "So... You going to help your big brother keep warm after that noble sacrifice?"

"Augh!" Feower pulls his hand away. "You did that to yourself! It's your fault and it's your problem!"

Seofon laughs, loud and fond, and despite himself Feower smiles just a little in return. Seofon's an ass, but he's not bad when it counts. It's not his fault he has a dumb sense of humor to distract people from those biceps. Feower looks away again because since when does he notice his stupid leader's stupid physique?

"I'll take first watch," Seofon says. It's a peace offering.

"Okay," Feower says. He can accept that.

There's really no place to get comfortable in a bare little space like this, but Feower's had worse. He curls up with his back to one wall, cradling his broken arm against his chest, and closes his eyes. He can at least get some rest, if not actual sleep.

Except he can't. The pain is distracting, yeah, but he's slept through injuries before. His senses all feel too sharp, the light cloth of his clothes rasping against his skin, the scents of old lumber and moss filling his nose. When he moves his arm he catches the scent of Seofon's skin clinging to the strips of cloth making up the splint.

Why did he have to go and do that, anyway? Feower's ears fold back in aggravation. That jerk didn't need to go and make such a big deal out of it. Even if Feower maybe would have done the same thing for somebody important.

He feels tender all over, like the onset of a fever—but a fever's never made his cock start to get hard at the same time that he's getting dizzy. He's never felt too sensitive for touch at the same time that he desperately wanted it. He buries his fingers in his hair and tugs on one ear and usually that's grounding but right now it just makes tingling warmth spiderweb through his body. Feower buries his face in the crook of his arm and whines.

A moment later Seofon is kneeling beside him, hand on his shoulder while Feower tries not to tremble. "What's the matter?"

"Go away," Feower says miserably. Seofon smells _lickable_. Having him this close is awful. Feower's figured out what's wrong on top of the broken arm and it's—

"You're burning up," Seofon says. His hand moves to the nape of Feower's neck and his voice is doing the quiet, tender thing he does when he's serious and it _shouldn't_ make Feower want to bare his throat. "You weren't sick this morning, and I don't think those guys knew anything about poisons—you're not going into heat on top of everything, are you?" 

"Shut _up_ ," Feower wails, swiping at him instinctively with his bad hand, both irritated and relieved that Seofon's quick enough to leap back out of the way.

"Oh no," Seofon says sympathetically. Feower wants to melt through the floor or possibly into a puddle at his feet. "What terrible timing. You know I wouldn't have asked you to help with this if I'd known you were due."

"I didn't know either," Feower says, and bites his lip immediately as if he could catch the words on the way out. Maybe...maybe Seofon will just think he means it caught him off guard, coming on early from stress. Probably the stress _was_ part of it, wasn't it? Ugh. Stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with his annoying, attractive would-be leader giving him that sweet, worried expression—it feels so unfair, having his first heat this way

Seofon stuffs his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, which just means his arms are framing his chest and of course he has more muscle definition than Feower does, he's older, but it's so hard not to stare. "Well. I'm afraid I can't give you much privacy in circumstances like this," he says, and by that time Feower has uncoiled to his feet. Seofon tenses a little but doesn't step back. "But I'll do my best."

Feower closes the distance between them until he has to look up to meet Seofon's eyes. His arm hurts and everything else hurts differently, and he's wearing a splint made with the shirt off this man's back. "Or you could help me."

Seofon's pupils dilate and his scent sharpens enough to make Feower's mouth water, but he says, "You sure you won't regret it?"

Feower slings his good arm around Seofon's neck. "Come on." Seofon is annoying and he flirts too much and badly but also, also he was the first not-shitty adult to offer Feower and Tien some help without gross strings attached, and the whole Eternals deal is supposed to help people suffer less, and he is also already half undressed.

And he's wrapping an arm around Feower's waist and leaning down to kiss him, mouth wet and hot and immediately enough to make Feower weak in the knees. Seofon turns them, coaxes Feower two steps back so his back hits the wall, and pins him there with the whole length of his body. Feower shudders, biting at his tongue, hips hitching up needily. His nerves are singing for more.

But even keyed up as he is, it still feels like a big knot of tension has already come undone. The cock rutting up against his is welcome. The hands holding onto him are safe. They'll have friends here tomorrow to help them handle this whole situation. And in the meantime—Feower leans into another kiss as a hand slips up under his shirt—in the meantime, Seofon will take care of him.


End file.
